I bailed on the 5K. I had the best intentions. And it pains me to admit that. But it just didn’t work out. It takes a lot for me to get out of my warm bed at 6:45am on a Sunday, OK? And I am not a huge fan of running under any circumstances, let alone when it’s 38 degrees out and pouring rain. It has something to do with suffering sob-inducing shin splints for years when I was on my high school tennis and track teams.
But I had decided I was going to do this – run my first 5K – along with the friend I’d roped into it with me. (Who, it must be noted, hosted a sleepover for a bunch of 8- and 9yo boys the night before, including my own.) And a commitment is a commitment, right?
We had trained for weeks, bought new running shoes, and gotten a good night’s sleep. (Well, I had, anyway.) I had visions of my family cheering me on from the sidelines with homemade signs – “Go, Mom!” – just like I’d done as a kid at my dad’s races.
But when I woke up, I saw rain. I watched the weather report: more rain. I picked up my friend, drove to the race site, sat in the car. Still raining. We dashed across the parking lot to pick up our race packets and were soaked to the skin within minutes. Still, back in the car, I waffled. What should I do? I HAD to run, didn’t I? I mean, it was on my bucket list! We can do hard things! I’d told all those people! I couldn’t back out now! Could I?
My friend broke through my internal debate. “I’m not running in this. I just decided.” She was right. This was crazy. If it were 38 degrees and sunny? Maybe. If it were 50 degrees and drizzling? Maybe. But this was a recipe for misery. I decided to let the dream go. “OK, you’re right. No way.”
So we drove to the gym and ran 3.1 miles on the treadmill. Since that’s the farthest I’ve ever run on purpose, and because it WAS 9 a.m. on a Sunday, I give myself credit for that. There’s no shame in revising your plan. No shame in saying, hey, it didn’t work out exactly as planned. So what?
Afterwards, we met our families at a diner for breakfast. As I wolfed down my French toast and scrambled eggs, I had no regrets. There’s always next time, right?
P.S. As I’m writing this, it is full-on SNOWING outside. I made the right decision. #NoRegrets